


The Sun Rise's

by ViserraBlackfyre233



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book: Fire and Blood, F/M, History of house Martell, House Martell, House Targaryen, Mentions of Dorne's secret civil war, Mentions of the conquest of Dorne, Myriah's Pov, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-06
Updated: 2019-10-06
Packaged: 2020-11-26 09:43:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20928167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViserraBlackfyre233/pseuds/ViserraBlackfyre233
Summary: What is Aemon the Dragonknight became king instead of Aegon the unworthy from the perspective of his son’s wife Myriah who prepares for this day.





	The Sun Rise's

**Author's Note:**

> A small one shot on a possibly of what could have been a different reign from Aegon the unworthy when Aemon over taking instead all from the perspective of his daughter in law Myriah.

**(Myriah Pov) **

Standing before the beautiful glowing mirror that beamed back to her like silver halo. Despite the supposedly joyous occasion this was supposed to be. Myriah couldn’t help but feel sad. For she had a close relationship with king Viserys. In all her years she never thought she would feel that way about a dragon related to the man who tried to subjugate her people. But then again she never thought she would be a princess to a land that hated her either.

But the relationship blossomed in the end for. Viserys like she knew struggles and pains that his children or her husband would never know. Of being taken to a foreign land as a hostage only to come home to all you knew gone and changed. His being the woman who held the connection to his past in Lys. A place where he had been truly happy. While spending his childhood in years in a silent war that exploded, ripping apart his family and almost all of his happiness.

She on the other remembered how she had received news of her mother princess Aliandra being murdered while fostering in Braavos. All by the hands of her aunt Coryanne. Just thinking of that name still sent rage through her. But in the end she had gotten her revenge. Biting back a bloodthirsty grin she had been the one to push her from that great height. All she had never even guessed it was her. After all she was so careful. Yes, she could be just as bloodthirsty as her mother when she wanted too.

That with her aunt’s ambition to have her blood was driven to the ultimate sin, kinslaying. The fool would have been better served to betroth her cousin to her if that’s what she wanted. But instead of immediately placing him on the throne Coryanne took her rightful seat having been older and having gained the necessary allies. All while she had never even had a chance being away in Braavos.

They had stolen what was rightfully hers without even a fight from those who knew Dorne’s laws. Their hatred for her mother’s war and polices was so great that they ignored the laws of succession. Oh how she had secretly smiled when it was that bloodline that brought misery and bloodshed to Dorne. When Daeron came bringing her son to his knees even when the common people were being subjugated. How she hated that Dorne had to fall to give her that satisfaction.

In the end though he got the last laugh engaging her to the enemy when she had been prepared to use all of that against him. In her ever-evolving plans. Before she had been given the opportunity grander than ruling Dorne she been slowly moving towards amongst those who were her mother’s allies. All to take back what was rightfully her’s.

All of this included promising herself to the head of house Yronwood that when given the chance she would have made the marriage official. The handsomely charismatic elder son who had been married to her hated cousin Ariana. Whom Myriah would have poisoned when the time was right to get her out of the way after she had given him an heir.

“Maybe I still can through my daughter. I can use my goodfather’s people as a weapon to gain back what is rightfully the line of Aliandra’s. and fulfill that marriage contract.” She thought to herself threading her hands through her oily curls. An old habit from her childhood.

Thinking to herself, “A civil had been brewing in Dorne. All before the conquest made by the Young Dragon and my cousin knew it. Oh how I bet he was glad to marry me off before I could make my moves to tip apart all my aunt had built. To destroy her family she did mine!!”

Her hands twitched as if imaging wrapping them around her throat and seeing red from the blood vengeance that she should have been hers. Taking a deep breathe before she unleashed the famous Dornish temper before all in the room and rumors spread of it.

Instead her thoughts turning back to the man who had understood all seeming to be able unlike others to read her like an open book. Their first meeting they had sat still for hours in silence before speaking. Leading to further discussions with him in an official capacity as the hand of the king. Her sharp tongue and wit with her knack for politics had been able to keep him on his toes. Even in the end led to her ideas she had planned in her mind for her reign as the princess of Dorne blossoming.

Watching as two handmaidens that were young girls included her beloved older half-sister Daenera Sand. Who had been the product of her mother’s affair with Alyn, all of Dorne knew of this. Possessing a heart shaped face that held almond shaped eyes of sparkling pale lavender. Surrounding was curly the color of the glowing moon falling to her back. Her skin was honeyed, and she was the tallest girl in the family with a slender long-limbed build.

Her elder sister had been a constant companion in this foreign land. The only one who understood and a place where secrets could be shared. Furthermore she had been her agent in her getting plans rolling in Dorne making alliances and more. Whereas she could feel the invisible blade against her neck if she made one wrong move. They both had wanted revenge for their beloved mother, “And we were so close” she nearly purred with satisfaction.

The marble door to her chamber carved with dragons inlayed with glittering rubies opened. Revealing two of her handmaiden bastard Alysanne and Sarra Flowers. Twin sisters belonging to the arrogant house Tyrell’s heir, “How I hate the reach!” She thought spitefully in her head.

The dumb fool had managed to have enough wits to secure a position as handmaidens for the two girls. Or at the very lest the ones he acknowledged as they were of high birth belonging to a younger daughter of house Hightower. But they were so many more. By servants and common born women alike.

And she knew that he viewed it as a way of serving her an insult. By giving bastards of house Tyrell instead of true born girls. All because she was a Dornish born princess, “What hypocrites the reach are looking down upon Dornishmen or Northerners as savages.”

Refusing to allow her face to break into the harsh contempt she truly held against the reach. Especially against those of nobility and all the slurs she endured daily. When instead she had taken the insult in stride and turned into something for my favor. The two girls became her spies giving insight into the political realm of the reach for future plans.

Another part of her plan was to play up to the political imagery of the dragons to secure the reign of her Dornish looking so. So no threats would come to be striking them down before they had time to form. Unlike Daeron she knew and could see what was coming if she didn’t make moves to prevent.

Feeling the cool silk of her puffy gown sliding down her slim body. Still small after two children and now a third on the way. Another reason to feel vindicated that thirty summers she fulfilled her duty and more. Something her detractors loudly objected about her betrothal to Daeron. About her being too old to give him an heir.

Glancing up to the mirror reflecting back a gown that belonged to the house of dragons. In truth it masqueraded a sun beneath its colors. The top was black and cut in a v to show off her ample chest. It was the tightest fitting item she had worn during her pregnancy that wasn’t yet announced. The long sleeves held lines of glittering red appearing like scales in the sunlight. Running her hand through the skirt that started off hugging her small hips. Then slowly unfolded into a loose scarlet silk that appeared like a dragon breathing fire. In tradition of Dorne she had swirls of black painted on forming into dragons.

Watching calmly as her long, thick raven was pulled and tugged into a chignon of loose ringlets. Strands of black pearls and glittering rubies being threaded throughout in a free fall. Before a heavy circlet was placed on her head. A pendant of a ruby breathing fire fell to her forehead making her a princess she already was.

She didn’t look bad for thirty summers from her slim figure and ample face. To her face that barely showed her age with all she had weathered through. Smiling softly, “It must be the Dornish and Valyrian blood running through my veins.”

Taking after her mother with her dusky skin and strong feline features including almond shaped eyes holding tiger gold eyes. When her full lips moved into a practice smiled her high cheekbones appeared. All emphasized by the heavy makeup that now covered her face like armor.

Her thoughts shifted to her father who still today in Braavos. Still continuing to sail the seas building his fortunes after her birth. All with her mother’s permission of course. Even with her people’s betrayal she had thought of Dorne and the wealth and alliances he continuously brought. Only to settle down for times in Braavos once she was fostered there to get to know his barely known child.

Her father Syrion was of Lyseni blood from a powerful Braavosi family with connections to the iron bank. Growing many had whispered of her mother’s great love affair with Lord Alyn. The same man who later helped invade his love’s homeland, “Some loyalty.” But also her first husband Drazenko.

Turning to face her young children who had been brought to by their caretakers. Her little son Baelor who represented the future, her pride and ambition. Then her fierce daughter Rhaendra whom already reminded her of her grandmother with her hot bloodedness and tendencies to the martial arts

Her son Baelor five moons old took after her side. From skin the color of amber to thick black curl falling around sharp features and warm golden eyes. A quiet boy with a gentleness and a good heart so unlike hers. Who adored his three-limbed black cat he had recused.

“Much more like Daeron than the hot blooded Martells or even my cold heart” she thought to herself.

Rhaendra on the other hand the potential of being Visenya or Nymeria herself reborn. She would mold her to be the perfect queen to match Baelor. Takng after Valyrian heritage unlike her older twin was fair of color. Only becoming kissed by the sun when the sun graced it during her times running through the garden. Or learning the art of the blade from her instructor. Proudly haughty eyes of sparkling violet eyes stared up at her whereas Baelor’s glimpsed at anything but her. Tossing her beautiful, thick silver hair colored like pale fire tied in a braid wrapped with a silver ribbon.

“Come my children soon it shall be time for your grandfather’s coronation” grabbing their hands as gently as she could manage.


End file.
